Light the F u s e
by CatrienStardust
Summary: Eclare ; Exposition, Heat, Fireworks, and Bliss. Clare spends the night.


E x p o s i t i o n.

"Would you-" He tossed.

"You're hogging the-" She turned.

"I'm cold-"

"I'll warm you up." His arms, sneaking their way to her sides, rubbing gently, long fingers trailing paths, tugging her shirt up ever so slightly.

"ELI!"

A smirk, not audible, but present, she knew that.

"Hey. You're the one who asked to spend the night."

A blush, not audible, but present, he knew that.

"I didn't mean it like that." Clare Edwards said, turning on Eli's mattress so she could face him. The way the covers tightened around them like a cocoon made her blush.

"Yes you did." Eli Goldsworthy contradicted, hands straying from her sides to her hips, lips dragging across her cheek.

"ELI!" She exclaimed for the second time that night. "You're..." Wonderful? Tempting? All I want? "Preposterous!"

"Ssh." Said Eli, lips finding their way to hers. "Or my parents will hear. Not that they wouldn't be _thrilled..._"

Her resistance fell when their lips touched, and she wondered how it could still feel this intense after so many kisses. It was still the first time; still so new and frightening as his hands found their way to the small of her back, lost in the fabric of (his) t-shirt there. Helium filled her chest and her knees went completely numb as his tongue swept across her bottom lip, asking and demanding entrance.

He washed over her, intoxicating, a steady cologne of possessiveness and affection.

It was wonderful and strange and oh- suddenly his lips were descending down her neck, marring the flesh, decorating it to match the flush of her cheeks.

Eli pulled back, smirking at the disarray of her hair, the flush of her cheeks, the rising of her chest, and how her shirt was pulled past her stomach. Overall, Clare Edwards looked _very _tempting.

"I like first night Clare."

Rolling her eyes, she attempted pitifully to shove Eli off her.

"You're ridiculous." She insisted.

Eli leaned in closer, lips inches from hers. "No." He kissed her, idly, lazily, lips moving to drag in slow circles down her jaw. "I'm yours."

Her lips curled into an innocent grin, pulling on the collar of his t-shirt to bring him closer, "Same thing."

Then, they were kissing again, and Clare was so oxygen-deprived that she couldn't tell which she felt more then- lust or... lo-

She wouldn't consider that now.

All she would consider was how damn good it felt, and how, for once, she was thankful of her parents fighting. While it was true that they didn't exactly know where she was- (they thought she was at Jenna's,) what they didn't know would hurt.

No, she thought. It wouldn't hurt at _all_.

His hands were beneath the cotton of her t-shirt then, gripping her shoulder blades, underneath the straps of her unadorned bra, loving the goosebumps breaking beneath his hands.

"Clare, I want to-"

She shook her head, finger lying flat against his lips, effectively shushing him.

"Help me?" She said, eyes wide and innocent as she gripped the hem of her top.

He gulped, eyes widening, but realized this wasn't an act to rebel. Unlike a previous offer, she was being honest here. It was terrifying; she _wanted _him.

Hands shaking, he pulled the hem of her shirt up and over her head, eyes widening even more at the sight of the beautiful girl beneath him. He ran his fingers down her sides, unable to resist touching her.

"We don't have to, you know, do it, persay..." He trailed off.

Her eyes narrowed. "We're not." Then softened, an impish grin looking up at him. "But that doesn't mean we can't do... anything."

"Oh, Edwards. I _definitely _like first night Clare."

His hands went to the clasp, of her bra, while his lips worked on kissing the straps down her shoulders. She was so _soft, _he thought, stifling a groan as her back arched, pressing her body... _close _to his.

To think that he would be the first, (and only, he added silently) person to make her feel like this?

It was intoxicating.

.

.

.

.

H e a t.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed.

She couldn't feel them, couldn't hear them over the scream of the heat. It was so consuming, starting in her abdomen and rising into her chest, her arms, her eyes, (clenching them shut) her ears, her mouth. It was everywhere, and growing every second, like a wave, pulling her under, over, with, above.

And then, suddenly, there was Eli. He fought through the heat, moved with it, coaxed it into bigger and better things. There wasn't enough time to be embarrassed or shameful, because she was too busy realizing just how _spindly_ his fingers were.

And when he moved like _that, _she almost lost it, (lost what?) and she forgot how to breath, her eyes closing as an uncharacteristic "Oh fuck," fell past her lips, whispered so quietly it was _almost_ saintly.

(She didn't look but she was sure he smirked.)

And then, again, there was Eli, and he was murmuring to open her eyes, open those blue eyes because he wanted to know what she would look like when she succumbed, (to what?), became his, but she obeyed, and suddenly green eyes were all she could see.

And then things moved faster, and harder, and her skin prespired, and everything was hot, but hot in a different way, like, like...

And then, suddenly, there were

F I R E W O R K S.

"What..." She panted, unable to form coherent thoughts, "in hell was that?"

Beside her, Eli smirked and kissed her forehead, lips tasting of sweat.

"That," he whispered huskily, "Is why you should spend the night more often."

She was too tired to contradict, she just nodded, the heat in her cheeks making her tired. Things were so foggy. Beside her, Eli grinned, pulling her onto his chest. He would feel the pulse point on her neck underneath his hands, and with an almost-blush, he realized he could get used to it.

Meanwhile, Clare slipped into unconsciousness with the accute feeling that things, for the first time in ages, were just _right._

B l i s s.

**This is apparently my inspiration now. Okaithen.**


End file.
